


A Promise Made

by lionheart (cruel_oath)



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruel_oath/pseuds/lionheart
Summary: Vergil returns to Fortuna a year after his initial visit and discovers that his weakness has destroyed yet another life.





	A Promise Made

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [this post by allylip on tumblr](https://allylip.tumblr.com/post/176874555462/hey-i-heard-you-like-vergil-as-a-dad-headcanons-so). I might write a follow-up to this story, but don't hold me to that.

It’s been nearly a year since Vergil last visited Fortuna.

In truth, he wasn’t particularly fond of the city―he found it odd that _humans_ would want to worship a demon, even if that demon had allied himself with humanity. He might even go as far as to say it was a bit unsettling, considering the demon in question happened to be his _father._

His reasons for visiting this time around had little to do with business… there were a few things he needed to look into here, but they weren’t pressing matters. They could wait a day or two.

This matter could not… nor should it.

_She stops him at the city gate, her hand gently grasping his wrist._

_“You’ll come back, right?”_

_It’s silly―he had outright abandoned his human emotions long ago, deeming them unnecessary in the wake of his mother’s brutal murder. What use were they if he wasn’t able to protect the people he cared about?_

_And yet…_

_“Yes,” Vergil says, after a moment. “How long I’ll be, I’m not sure… but I’ll come back.”_

_She smiles at him. “I’ll wait for you, then.”_

Her home is in ruins―the furniture is torn to shreds, the walls are splattered with blood, and her body lies in a heap nearby the fireplace. Limbs of the demons he slayed are scattered about, filling the room with an odor so fowl Vergil wonders if it’s toxic.

When Vergil sits down on the couch, reality hits him. _She’s dead._

_You weren’t there to save her._

Suddenly, he’s not in her house… now, he’s a child, watching as his mother is gruesomely hacked to bits by demons. He’s frozen in fear, his eyes wide and filled with tears. He’s not able to run away when the demons turn on him, tearing him away from his brother, the only family he has left.

 _You were weak then,_ he thinks, _and you’re weak now._

Vergil looks down at her. Though their communication had been limited, he still received a letter from time to time. Suddenly, he regrets not getting in touch with her more often. He regrets not coming a day or two sooner.

 _Weak,_ his mind hisses, _weak, weak, weak, weak,_ **_weak!_ **

In one swift motion, Vergil strikes the nearest object―a coffee table, now stained with the blood of the woman and the demons who murdered her. For the first time since he was a child, he lets out a scream of anguish.

“Failure!” Vergil spits, “You failed to protect your mother, and now you fail to protect _her―”_

_The woman you love._

_Love._

Vergil raises his fist, prepared to turn what remains of the coffee table to dust when he hears something. He freezes, straining to hear.

 _Crying._ Someone is _crying._

Vergil follows the sound, though it takes little more than a few seconds to find where it’s coming from. The door has been torn off its hinges and thrown to the side, the wood cracked and splintered. He enters the room, finding a crib in the center of the room.

He feels his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.

Vergil walks up to the crib, finding a crying baby. He’s unsure if the wailing is a result of the demons or his outburst from earlier, but that’s not the thing he’s most concerned about.

White hair, blue eyes. The child appears to be three months old, perhaps four, if he had been born premature. The timing lines up perfectly.

_When did she plan on telling me?_

There’s an odd feeling in his chest when he lifts the child into his arms, but it’s not an _unpleasant_ feeling. It’s soft and warm, like the sweaters his mother would make him and his brother wear on particularly cold days.

“Hush,” Vergil whispers, his tone soft. “You’re safe. No harm will come to you… not while I’m here.”

It takes him longer than he would’ve liked to console the crying baby―whether it was because he could sense Vergil’s demonic aura or he was just that poor with children, he isn’t sure, but in the end, the crying stops. Eventually, he falls asleep, the demons now a distant memory.

Vergil lays the child down in the crib and leaves the room. He has questions, and the only person in this city who could possibly answer them is dead.

That didn’t mean the answers were lost forever, though.

Vergil’s search takes him to her bedroom, where everything has been torn to shreds. Half of the roof has collapsed, the furniture is splintered, and the floor is covered in claw marks. The smell of rain hangs heavy in the air―he needs to work quickly, lest the rain destroy any potential clues to the child’s identity.

In the end, he finds a half-written letter hidden beneath the remains of a desk. Its contents takes up less than half a page, and for a moment, Vergil fears he might not get the answers he needs.

_Vergil,_

_I apologize for not responding to your letter sooner. It would seem life has been getting in the way in more ways than one. I’m sure the time must be flying by for you, since you’re keeping yourself so busy, and I suppose the same could be said for me._

_This is something I’ve wanted to bring up to you for months, but it didn’t feel right to tell you in a letter. Of course, that was back when I thought you’d only be a few months, and now it’s been just over a year. It isn’t fair to keep such a thing from you, and I think it would be unwise of me to drop the bomb when you return._

_You have a son._

_His name is Nero, and he’s almost four months old. I have no doubts that he’s yours. He has your hair, your eyes. Even if he didn’t, you were the last person I was with. I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you, but the last thing I wanted to do was distract―_

Vergil drops the letter.

He had his suspicions as soon as he laid eyes on the boy, but the confirmation feels like a knife to the gut. Whatever pride he feels is overshadowed by guilt― _i_ _f you had just been a little faster, you could’ve saved her. You’ve not only ended one life, but you’ve ruined another._

By now, the rain has started pouring. The letter is now soaked, the ink on the page becoming splotchy. Vergil watches as the words become illegible until something else catches his eye.

A photograph.

The frame is shattered, leaving the picture exposed to the rain. Half of it is ruined beyond repair, but Vergil is able to salvage the half that depicts a smiling Nero. He tucks the photograph into his coat―it’s no longer needed here.

There’s only one thing left to do.

* * *

 

The rain shows no signs of stopping as Vergil walks the streets of Fortuna. He keeps Nero tucked under his cloak, sheltering him from the cold and the rain. He remains vigilant, eyes scanning dark corners for lurking demons.

Fortunately, his destination is not much further.

The only orphanage in Fortuna is in the center of the city, directly across from the cathedral. Though it’s as grandiose as the cathedral, there’s a grim aura surrounding it―it smells of withering hope and decaying dreams, much like a prison.

“Ba?”

Vergil looks down, finding Nero awake. The child’s eyes are wide with some semblance of trust― _oh, if only you knew what comes next_ ―and that’s when Vergil’s façade falls apart.

“I wish we could have met under better circumstances,” Vergil says, watching as Nero’s tiny hand wraps around his finger. “Perhaps, in another lifetime, we could’ve been a proper family.”

_Dante! Vergil! Run!_

_Mama!_

“This isn’t goodbye, Nero. As soon as I make things right, I’ll come back for you.”

Vergil’s eyes sting with tears as he gently lowers Nero down onto the steps of the orphanage. The child begins to cry, pulling at the heartstrings that Vergil thought he severed long ago.

“I’ll come back,” he repeats, turning away. “That’s a promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> [lol im on tumblr if u wanna talk abt dad vergil](https://memegitek.tumblr.com/)


End file.
